


Bravery Is Sorrow

by Amuly



Series: New Avengers #3 Fics [2]
Category: Marvel 616, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Arguing, M/M, Philosophy, avengers vol. 5, hickmanvengers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2013-02-10
Packaged: 2017-11-28 20:42:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/678683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amuly/pseuds/Amuly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before Xavier's gem is recovered, Steve and Tony eat dinner together in Wakanda and discuss their options. Steve refuses to entertain Black Swan's solution, whereas Tony... might be. 3rd person Steve POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bravery Is Sorrow

 

The meal T'Challa had provided them with sat on Steve's plate like a cold, dead thing. He was sure it would be delicious, and his stomach felt hollow, but Steve couldn't motivate himself to do more than pick at the food. His appetite had dried up as their options had around the table occupied by Illuminati. They had the Infinity Gauntlet, but that was their only option. Or at least, it was the only option Steve was willing to entertain. If that didn't work...

Like a tide rising within him, guilt and shame washed up inside Steve. Guilt over being unable to think of a second solution; shame over what the men he called compatriots—one man whom he called his lover—had been willing to entertain.

That man sat opposite of Steve now, tossing back food with more enthusiasm than Steve was managing. Only it wasn't really enthusiasm: it was more with distracted speed, made habit by years of practice that came from being Tony Stark.

“What if the Infinity Gauntlet doesn't work?” Steve's question broke the thick silence of the room, startling Tony nearly enough to drop his fork.

“Don't be so negative.” Tony waved a hand dismissively, gaze already dropping back down to his phone lying on the table.

“We don't even know where Xavier's gem is,” Steve pressed. “What if we can't find it?”

“We'll find it.”

“ _Tony_.” Steve's tone was firm. Tony startled at it, eyes snapping up from his phone.

After a second's contemplation Tony blinked, then set his utensil down and focused his full attention on Steve. His blue eyes were calm, with some sort of mix of seriousness and reassurance swirling in their depths.

“It'll work, Steve,” Tony replied, voice quiet and confident. A grin flitted at the corner of his mouth. “We'll find Xavier's gem, we'll stop the next incursion. It's a good plan, what you came up with. It'll work.”

“That's not what you're thinking.”

The smile that had started to creep onto Tony's face slid quietly away. Steve knew Tony: it was insulting of Tony to think anything _but_ what he was. Steve knew that Tony was planning a hundred different contingencies. No way was he waiting around, inactive, putting all his hope into one untested option.

“I'm looking into other options,” Tony quietly admitted.

“You're looking into Black Swan's option,” Steve accused.

“And if I am?”

Silence. Tony's fingers were fidgeting against the table: running over the polished wood, flickering against his fork and knife, sliding over his phone once before scurrying away. The whole time, his gaze stayed locked on Steve's, waiting for an answer.

“It's not an option, Tony. We agreed: it's abhorrent. It goes against everything we stand for as heroes, as leaders, as men.”

Tony flicked his gaze cruelly away from Steve, slouching in his chair like a petulant child. “I'm just studying it so I know how it works. It's all in the hypothetical; I'm only going so far to entertain the _possibility_ -”

“You can't do even _that_ much, Tony!” Steve's fists curled on the table. How could Tony not _see_ it? How could he not understand that every time, _every time_ someone suggested going down this path, it always resulted in unspeakable loss. To the individual, to the society, to the cause. Giving up on their morals, choosing the easier, seemingly more “sane” route, was never, ever, ever the right choice. Not _once_.

Tony's perfectly manicured fingertips drummed restlessly on the table. His expensive suit was crumpled in all sorts of directions thanks to the lazy sprawl of his body at the dinner table. The arc reactor and cell phone were twin glows, illuminating Tony in the harsh light of his technology.

It was times like this that Steve felt resentment bubble up inside him. He wasn't proud of it, he didn't like that he felt that way, but he was man enough to acknowledge that he did. Tony, who was raised with the proverbial silver spoon in his mouth, who had the brain of a genius passed down to him from his father and amplified tenfold. Tony Stark, the closest thing modern society had to an emperor, ruling over all with his technological innovations and cooperate shrewdness. He could have any woman or man he wanted, and he did. Anything in his life he only had to reach out and it was there: his. He even had Captain America, though Steve hated to think of himself as just another possession of Tony's—and in his kinder moments, was almost certain Tony didn't feel that way.

Yes, Steve knew what Tony had been through. Everything he had been through. They'd been together—in some form or another—for half Tony's adult life. There had been alcoholism, depression, bankruptcy, illness, loss, and death. Tony shouldered a lot, and had been weakened and hurt plenty. But there was always that spoiled little rich kid, that self-entitled brat, lurking in Tony's lizard brain. And it was only made worse by Tony's genius, constantly able to think of a justification for whatever terrible scheme his _id_ dreamed up.

“I wasn't here last time,” Steve finally said to break the silence.

Tony's eyes immediately shuttered. He glanced away sharply, eyelashes dipping so low that it almost looked like he had closed his eyes.

This was manipulation. Far be it from Steve to ever justify the ends with the means, but he was willing to do it in this case. And sometimes, it was for Tony's own good to remember his past mistakes. He might not use alcohol to bury those memories anymore, but Tony was an addict, and addicts always found other ways to help themselves forget. He had his work, the Avengers and Illuminati and Stark Industries and whatever other teams he had picked up on the side to bury himself in. And of course, he had Steve for that, too, for burying himself in when he needed to forget, which Steve was naturally responsible for.

“How did it go?” Steve asked. “You came together because one of you—probably you, or Reed, maybe Xavier since he's seen it before—could smell it in the air? A news report triggered the thought, some senator whispered the word 'registration' at a lunch-in, in a bar, next to a pole at a strip club?”

Tony didn't look up.

“And so you assembled, in secret. In that little room, around that table. And you few decided you knew what was best for the world. What was best for all the superheroes. What was best for _me_. And then you stood, shook hands, left. And never spoke a word of it to the rest of us.”

Tony cleared his throat hesitantly. Glanced back up across the table. “Look, Steve: this isn't the same as back then. We've learned from our mistakes, we're better men-”

“What have you learned, Tony? Because I think you're still under the impression that you were on the winning side.”

Tony blinked, confusion painting his features. For a guy so smart, Tony sure could be stupid sometimes.

“What's going to happen this time, Tony? How's it going to play out? How have you learned? How's it going to be different?”

Tony balked. Fingers drummed across the table in rapid waves. That expensive fucking suit crumpled and uncrumpled with the nervous movements of his body.

“We've got you?”

Steve sighed. Leaned over the table and held his head in his hands. “I know,” he whispered.

He understood. They had him to be their moral compass. Him and T'Challa, though Steve wasn't so sure how clear-headed T'Challa was at the moment with the murder of his bright youths. So once again, it was all down to Steve. To make sure things were right. To make sure everyone did the right thing, that no one dared step across that line that they couldn't come back from.

He wanted Sam here. Or maybe Bucky. Someone who understood why he couldn't let Tony make that call, why that option wasn't an option.

“But. Steve...”

Steve lifted his head from his hands. It felt heavier than the Hulk. Like he was Saint Christopher and the child Jesus was on his back, sitting on his neck, letting him feel the weight of the world's sins that he carried with him every day. And there was that look in Tony's eyes: he didn't understand, he thought the option that wasn't one was something they should consider—something they _needed_ to consider. And Tony was going to try and convince him of that.

“If the Gauntlet doesn't work. If it comes down to zero minute-”

“No, Tony.”

“But... Just in _case_.”

“It's _not_ an option.”

“Damn your fucking pride, Steve!” Tony's fist came down onto the table with a crack.

Steve stayed in place. Solid. Unmovable. Like Tony said: they had him here this time for a reason.

“It's not about pride.”

Tony scoffed. Threw himself back in his chair. Petulant. A spoiled little brat not getting his way.

He waved a hand out, flipping it at Steve. “It's always about your pride.”

“No-”

“Pride in your moral code, in your fucking _goodness_ , in how brave and wonderful you are for standing in front of the line, in trying to keep us all from falling into the abyss. We managed it without you, you know, Steve. We managed to not send the world into hell. We are all _good men_ , Steve: you're not the only fucking one out there with a moral code. So maybe this time you can swallow your pride for two fucking seconds and consider what we're doing here, to understand it: No, we don't want to shoot someone in the head to save the universe, but _yes_ , that is an option we might have to entertain, _because this is what we're here for_.”

“Are you finished?”

Tony sneered in response. Steve could admit that maybe he was laying on the 'Disapproving Parent' tone a little thick.

Steve took a breath, then another. With Tony it was always so difficult to properly respond, because there were a hundred ideas wrapped up in one sentence. And you had to address all of them or Tony would think you didn't understand and dismiss you out of hand. Trying to have a real conversation with Tony was like trying to juggle twenty balls at once. On top of a train. Going through a tunnel.

In the end, Steve decided to start at the beginning. If he kept the focus of the conversation more abstract, on ideas rather than Tony's personal failings and guilt complexes, then maybe they'd be able to make some actual progress.

“If you're proud of your bravery, you're not brave. True bravery inspires a great sadness within.”

“Read that off a fortune cookie?”

Steve ignored Tony's sarcasm.

“You act like if I were to agree with you, to stick a toe over that moral line, that the only one I'm sacrificing is myself. That the only reason I don't side with you right this second is because I'm not willing to make that sacrifice. Tony, look at me.” Tony looked, eyes dark and angry. Steve held his gaze until they softened, just a degree. “Since when have I not been willing to sacrifice myself for someone else?”

“But you always do this.” Tony's voice was almost a whine, a plea for Steve to just _get over it_. Steve sighed and brushed a hand through cropped hair. “You always say that you're acting selflessly, that this is all for some higher moral purpose, but you stick to your guns until _lives are lost_ , Steve. What good could possibly come of that? What bad could come of just... stepping back?”

“You think I'm counting in lives, Tony. That's just it. You think that this is about my individual pride, or about saving the most amount of people. Tony, it's _so much bigger than that_.”

Now Tony just looked confused. “What... Okay, hypothetical for you here.”

Steve's lips tightened into a thin line. He hated ethical hypotheticals. Mostly because they were contrived to not let you seek out a third option, to cut the Gordian knot and find that other way out.

“Saving the universe. Kill one person, against your personal moral code. Save a billion. Don't kill the one person, go with your moral code. Billions die. You're not going to tell me that the latter option is the right one?”

Steve's eyes tightened. He hated ethical hypotheticals. But.

“Yes. It is.”

“That's ridiculous.”

“How?”

Tony threw his hands up, clearly exasperated. “Has it ever occurred to you that if a moral code says it's okay for billions to die to protect its own integrity, _it's a bad moral code_.”

“It's not for its own sake, Tony! It's not my soul I'm trying to save, it's not individual lives I'm trying to save. If you go through with this, Tony—if you decided the unthinkable option is the right one—you've sold _humanity's_ soul. Don't you understand that? Our worth is not measured in means-ends analysis, it's not about lives tallied up at the end of the day like some statistic. It's not even about the end results, once all is said and done. It's about why we did what we did, it's about valuing _every_ human life, not just the majority. It's about finding what is good and then throwing your uncompromising, unwavering support behind that goodness, no matter if things get hard, no matter if you can't see another way out.”

Silence rang loud through their chambers T'Challa had so graciously offered them. Tony twitched and moved and fidgeted but didn't make a sound for a long time.

Finally he huffed a little frustrated sigh and slouched down further in his seat. He was practically lying down at this point. He pouted. “Then we're working from two different ethical starting points.”

“Good.”

Tony blinked. Stared. Steve let a smile creep across his face, a real smile. It was tinged with sadness and worry and yes, the weight of his role here hadn't lessened any. But it was a smile, because he still loved Tony through all of this, and more than even that: he loved still being able to surprise him.

“Good,” he repeated, grinning even more as Tony just stared incredulously at him. He threw a thumb over his shoulder. “Well, if we agreed on everything, my presence here would be pretty redundant, wouldn't it? Best I just hop on the quinjet and fly myself back to New York.”

Tony laughed, sharp and loud and bright enough to push all the darkness that had been creeping in on them back into the far reaches of the room. His fingers gripped the table tightly, tips turning white. He leaned forward, grin lecherous and predatory. Steve felt himself shiver and begin to come to attention in his pants.

There were times when he put up with Tony out of some twisted sense of obligation. And then Tony did something to remind Steve that his interest in the man wasn't all self-sacrifice and duty-based. He had his own selfish reasons for keeping Tony close to his side most nights.

“Do you think T'Challa would know if you fucked me over this table?”

Steve wanted to sit still and consider this for a moment, drawing out Tony's anticipation and trying his patience. But instead he found himself jumping up and undoing his belt, pants dropping down to his knees in his haste. Tony was right with him, undoing that damned expensive suit of his and crumpling it even further.

Steve hoped that by the time he was done, not even the dry cleaners would be able to salvage it.

“Only one way to find out.”

Tony kissed him hard. For once Steve let himself take, and take, and take. There'd be enough sacrifice in the upcoming days and weeks. For just now, tonight, with Tony, Steve let himself be selfish.  


End file.
